


Better Late Than Never (Just Don't Make Me Wait Forever)

by koizoras (parkchanyeol)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drama, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkchanyeol/pseuds/koizoras
Summary: [Crosspost] Chanyeol first met Baekhyun in high school. They weren’t friends. Fifteen long years later, they might’ve finally made a little progress. Written for the 2017 round of Yeolliepopday. Originally postedhere.





	Better Late Than Never (Just Don't Make Me Wait Forever)

**Author's Note:**

> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/arenaaor/playlist/5ICX2lYIn0urF5Zm7Swhk3?si=363fZgTESYWJjcd_K-3E3w) if anyone's interested

**London, United Kingdom. _2013, May. 21 years._**

“Park, you’re with… Byoon?”

The guy in the purple event T-shirt held up his clipboard and looked around searchingly from his vantage point, halfway up the stairs of the main campus quad. The Raising And Giving society was holding its last fundraiser of the academic year, and all the final-year reps were gathered in the quad to be assigned pairs and distributed their collecting tins.

Standing amongst the crowd of forty or so students, Chanyeol burst out laughing and walked up to where the RAG president was standing. “What’s this, huh? Racism?”

“Park Chanyeol?” The voice was familiar, and laced with disbelief. A guy in an oversized grey hoodie was walking up the steps to join them. “You’re a rep?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “What does it look like?”

The RAG president looked between the two of them, then down at his clipboard again. “You guys will be at Chinatown. That okay?”

“Now you’re just being obvious.”

The president only laughed, as though it was funny in any way, and bent to reach into the cardboard box at his feet. “Your shirts. Size M for both? Go on and grab a tin from Lia, we’ll text you for updates.” He slapped the plastic-wrapped shirts into their hands and gave them a not-so-gentle push. “On your way now.”

“You no-good, discriminatory piece of —”

“See you tonight! And you’d better bring back lots of money!”

 

 

“So. Us two again.”

“Oh, happy day.”

Chanyeol shortened his strides, matching the frustratingly slow shuffle of the tube station crowd. Just ahead of him, Byun Baekhyun scanned his Oyster card, passed through the gantries, and immediately made for the wrong exit.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes at the sight. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“What?” Baekhyun’s voice carried easily over the noise.

“For a guy who’s lived in this country all his life…” Chanyeol pointed out the correct exit. “Didn’t we agree on the junction?”

“Right.” Baekhyun’s shoulders brushed up against his arms as they fought their way out of the station. “Have you done any of these before?”

Chanyeol shook his head. He wasn’t exactly super-involved with the society’s activities, which was probably why they hadn’t bumped into each other at any events. “No, I only did the run and the bake sale. You?”

“I did the Christmas one. But I was paired with Sidd for that, he did all the work.”

He sounded apprehensive. Chanyeol’s forehead creased. “Well, how tough can it be?”

They stationed themselves next to the square, where they figured they’d catch pedestrians walking up from the river, across from the prime theatre and shopping districts, and down from Chinatown. The intersection was packed and the crowd relentless, moving forwards and backwards but never stopping. As they started work, Chanyeol did his best, chanting the same speech as fast as he could at every person within range, but they quickly realised their task wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

“Excuse me, we’re raising money for underprivileged children — ” Chanyeol started, trailing off when the man walked past like he hadn’t even heard him. “Great.”

Baekhyun was walking up to him, looking mournfully at his equally empty tin. “Maybe we should do something, to get the attention on us.”

Easier said than done, Chanyeol thought. “What do you suggest?”

Baekhyun did a quick scan of the crowded junction, and Chanyeol followed his gaze to the nearest theatre at the corner of Piccadilly Circus, which was finishing up its run of Aladdin. “What?”

 

 

“Thank you for listening to our impromptu performance!” Baekhyun took a bow, grinning widely. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself. “Chanyeol and I are university students here in London, and we’re raising money for a group of charities to support children in needy communities locally. We’d appreciate it if you could just leave a small token of support to help these children. Please approach either of us if you’d like to find out other ways you can help! Thank you very much.”

Following Baekhyun’s cue, Chanyeol picked up his tin and stepped off the ledge, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of people stepping forward to offer donations.

Four hours later, they left the square, tins heavy and voices sore. Chanyeol sighed in relief at the end of the most embarrassing afternoon of his life. “Your voice isn’t half bad,” Baekhyun complimented. “You play guitar, don’t you? You could try busking, sometime.”

Chanyeol didn’t feel like sharing that he already did covers as a hobby, in his spare time. “I still can’t believe I just played Jasmine for a whole afternoon.”

“Hey, you knew her parts really well. I was impressed.”

Chanyeol glanced at his watch. “So, are you gonna come to the bar tonight?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think any of my friends aren’t going.”

“You should come,” Chanyeol found himself saying. “I’ll intro you to mine. C’mon, it’s the last one. You _have_ to come.”

Baekhyun seemed to be considering it. “What time is it at again?”

 

 

Chanyeol arrived back on campus at ten-thirty, by which time the afterparty was already in full swing. Though the day’s fundraiser had been a final-year affair, there were plenty of juniors and non-reps crowding up the campus bar for the celebrations. Kyungsoo, one of his friends from the folk music society, grabbed hold of him as he entered and brought him to the table they’d colonised for their group of friends. Chanyeol volunteered to buy the first round of drinks, and their table started getting rowdy before an hour had passed.

Some time later Baekhyun stepped into the bar, and Chanyeol managed to squeeze him onto the end of their booth. To nobody’s surprise, Baekhyun and his half-drunk friends got on like a house on fire. After just two shots, though, Baekhyun started sporting a pretty impressive Asian flush, which escalated into him spending the next two hours leaning on Chanyeol’s shoulder, half-asleep.

At first, Chanyeol was pretty annoyed. He’d harboured a crush on Kyungsoo for the longest time, and had been hoping to take him home that night. With Baekhyun draped all over him, though, it just wasn’t happening. Kyungsoo ended up climbing into a cab with his TA, and Chanyeol watched him go from behind the DJ booth, downing another half a drink to bury his disappointment. Baekhyun had mostly recovered by then, but he was clearly still feeling uninhibited, burying his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder, clinging to him like a koala. It was most unlike him, as though he was trying to push all thoughts of Kyungsoo out of Chanyeol’s mind — and succeeding.

Chanyeol didn’t know whether to blame his foggy, drink-addled brain, or Baekhyun’s insistent clinging, but he saw a chance and took it. He asked if Baekhyun wanted to head on back to his apartment. Fortunately he’d been reading the signs right, because instead of shutting him down in his usual merciless way, Baekhyun just nodded. “Please,” he said.

Chanyeol pulled out his phone and dialled up an Uber.

 

 

“There, that’s my room in there.” Chanyeol reached out to hold the door open for Baekhyun. It was dark inside the apartment, and Baekhyun wasn’t familiar with the layout. The moment he stepped through the doorway, he went tumbling — over a guitar, judging from the garbled twang of strings — and Chanyeol quickly caught his shoulder, steadying him. “Shit, sorry — you alright?”

Baekhyun looked slightly shaken, but he nodded. “Yeah.” His voice came out much hoarser than usual.

Chanyeol flicked on the lights, and Baekhyun walked further into the room, taking a good look around. He looked impressively alert for someone who’d been asleep just two hours ago. “Fancy place you have, Park.”

“Are you really gonna keep calling me that?” Chanyeol teased, coming up to him from behind. “I thought we were over that phase, you know, with you being here in my room and all.”

“Well, what would you prefer?” Baekhyun turned around, coming face-to-face with Chanyeol. His expression was unreadable, gaze unwavering and so intense it sent a chill down Chanyeol’s spine. “What are you into?”

“Chanyeol.” Instinctively, Chanyeol reached out to place a hand on his waist, tracing its shape. “Just call me Chanyeol.”

It was now or never. He leaned in to kiss him, hot and tasting slightly of alcohol, liking the way Baekhyun gasped and slackened, his form going slightly limp. “Chanyeol,” he breathed. “Bed.”

Chanyeol half-smiled, his lips a hair away from Baekhyun’s. “Sure,” he said softly, listening to Baekhyun’s quiet intake of breath. “Whatever you want.” He pressed Baekhyun gently into the pillows, breath catching as Baekhyun leaned in to claim his lips once more.

 

 

Chanyeol had been awake for an hour by the time Baekhyun staggered out of the bedroom, sleep still evident on his face and lingering in his tufty hair, clinging to the same rumpled long-sleeved shirt and jeans he’d worn to the bar for the afterparty.

“Good morning.” Chanyeol looked up from his laptop, grinning wide enough to split his face in half.

“Keep the gloating to yourself.” Baekhyun yawned, walking over to the table and flopping down next to him.

“So you’re back to your usual self. You weren’t being this sharp last night.”

Baekhyun ignored the comment. “Wanna grab breakfast before we graduate?”

 

 

They headed out to a nearby breakfast joint and ordered croissants with coffee, settling down at a table next to the window. It was a Saturday, and the streets were near empty, the cafe quiet and almost serene. Baekhyun took slow sips of his Americano while Chanyeol absently stirred the ice cubes in his caramel latté.

Chanyeol broke the silence. “What time’s your ceremony? Do you still have to pick up your robes?”

“It’s at three. Nope, I got a friend to pick them up for me.”

“Wild, isn’t it? Feels like we just graduated high school, and now we’re almost out of uni. Actual adults.”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun nodded, his expression distant. Chanyeol wondered what he was thinking about. “Who knew, we’d actually be having a civil face-to-face conversation over coffee and breakfast?”

“Wrong time, wrong place. We missed an opportunity — we should’ve been friends.” Chanyeol thought back to their time in sixth form together, five whole years ago. Baekhyun had been a popular, outgoing kid on the students’ council, friends with lots of the local students, while Chanyeol had stuck to his international crowd. The only time they’d had to interact with each other at any length was when both ended up on the committee for their graduation ball, and it hadn’t been pleasant — they’d been at odds regarding almost everything, outright quarrelling at every meeting.

But that had been a long time ago.

“It’s strange that we never really saw each other at uni, don’t you think?”

“Well, there was that time at the open mic, last year…” Baekhyun trailed off.

“Really? Were you performing?” Chanyeol racked his brains, but couldn’t seem to remember seeing Baekhyun there.

“Yeah. And the K-Soc clubbing night, remember?”

Chanyeol tried to recall, he really did, but most of his clubbing memories entailed either leaving early, or getting shitfaced-drunk and passing out on the pavement outside.

He shook his head, and Baekhyun shrugged. “Well, different campuses. Not really unexpected.”

They fell into silence once more, finishing up their croissants and the last of their drinks.

“So what are you planning to do with your life, now that we’ve graduated?”

Chanyeol was caught off-guard. “Oh. I’m going to Switzerland, to see a friend. He’s doing hotel management there. Then I might travel the region for a bit, head to the States—”

“Travelling.” Baekhyun smiled, somewhat derisively. “That’s predictable.”

“Whatever.”

“Trying to find yourself, are you?”

Chanyeol was slightly offended. “I want to see the world, is there a problem with that?”

“Lighten up, I was only teasing.”

They were done with their food, and a waiter came by to clear their table. Chanyeol glanced at the time on his phone — it was past eleven. “Sorry — I kinda have to go. My ceremony’s at twelve.”

Baekhyun nodded, standing up. “You should hurry then. It’s been fun, yesterday and well, last night.”

“Same, thanks for that.” Chanyeol got up, and they stepped back out into the spring morning air. The street was finally starting to show signs of life, a few pedestrians jaywalking across the intersection, others coming out of the convenience stores.

Baekhyun turned to face him, letting out a small smile. “Goodbye. Have a nice life.”

Chanyeol lifted a palm. He knew he sucked at goodbyes, and his voice felt stuck in his throat. “All the best.”

For a second, Baekhyun looked like he wanted to say something more. Then he turned and walked down the street towards the underground entrance, his hair bouncing slightly as he walked.

 

 

Baekhyun was almost at the station when he heard Chanyeol calling him breathlessly from behind. “Baekhyun! Wait! Wait!”

He turned around, surprised. Chanyeol came to a halt, two metres away, panting slightly. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Why? What’d you want?”

“Just… I’m coming back in August. Maybe we could hang out then, if you’re still in the country.” He looked hopeful, eyes wide and questioning.

“Hmm.” Baekhyun deliberated, watching Chanyeol’s face fall. The guy wore his emotions so openly. Then he laughed and clapped Chanyeol on the shoulder. “Relax, of course we can hang out. We’re old friends.” He raised his eyebrows. “Who occasionally sleep together.”

Chanyeol laughed loudly, relief written all over his face. “Right. Let’s keep that as a one-time thing, though. I’ll send you a message then. See you, old friend.”

“Hopefully. Bye till then.” Baekhyun blew him an air kiss and turned back towards the station.

“And congrats on graduation!” Chanyeol shouted from behind. Baekhyun smiled to himself as he walked away, footsteps feeling lighter than before.

 

 

 

 

* * *

**London, United Kingdom. _2013, August. 21 years._**

Baekhyun set down two coffees and a slice of carrot cake on the table. “Here you go.”

“Looks great,” Chanyeol said chirpily. Baekhyun sighed, folded the tray under his arm and walked back to the counter.

The café he was working at was a fancy, hipster joint near Portobello Market, with a section selling vinyls right next to the bakery counter stacked high with various layer cakes, brownies and traybakes. Waiting tables was just one of many part-time jobs he was juggling while trying to get a position as an assistant teacher at a vocal academy. While working there wasn’t really _bad_ , it definitely wasn’t what he wanted to be doing.

Meanwhile Chanyeol had returned from his world travels, and he’d gotten a new girlfriend, Choi Jinri. She was the latest in a long line of companions — Chanyeol’s postcards from just a few weeks prior had mentioned a different girl, and the ones before that had mentioned a male companion. He’d arrived back in London and showed up to stay at Baekhyun’s family home with no warning whatsoever, “taking Baekhyun up on his prior invitation” as he claimed. And now he was sitting here in Baekhyun’s workplace, reclining in Baekhyun’s favourite armchair, long legs stretched out into the aisle.

“Any luck with the job search?” Chanyeol asked as he leafed through one of the guitar magazines that the cafe liked to leave lying around for its customers’ perusal.

“No. They all want experience, would you believe it. How the fuck am I going to get experience if I can’t get hired in the first place?”

Chanyeol laughed, causing several of the other patrons to turn around and look at him.

“I’m glad you think my predicament is funny. Have you forgotten you’re jobless yourself?”

“All in time.” Chanyeol took a few sips of his coffee. “You’re getting lots of music-related experience from working here. You can tell your future employees all about how vinyls sound _warmer_ than digital recordings.”

Baekhyun spluttered. “You — you’re one of them! Fucking vinyl-collecting hipsters…”

A rakish grin. “Hey, don’t slander me like that. I did quite a few courses on production.”

“You dropped your stylus into a sink full of dishwater once, and kept using it.”

Chanyeol looked around, but Jinri was still safely at the other end of the store, browsing the vinyl collection. “Don’t broadcast it.”

“Afraid Jinri’s gonna hear and find out you’re not as cool as you pretend? Maybe I should bring up the time you threw up in my parents’ toilet because you couldn’t make it to mine.”

Chanyeol grimaced.

“Or maybe that time, on graduation night, when we—”

“Look, let’s not mention that again, alright?” Chanyeol sounded pained — the exact reaction Baekhyun had been hoping for.

It wasn’t that he hated Chanyeol. He liked the guy, he really did, but sometimes they were so different and Chanyeol was so insensitive to his situation. What he didn’t like was watching Chanyeol playing around, coming to his workplace and showing off his privilege in his unthinking way, while Baekhyun struggled to make ends meet. The only way Baekhyun knew how to balance their dynamic was by dropping sarcastic comments and keeping him on his toes.

Jinri glanced back at the table, and Chanyeol leaned back, schooling his features into a mask of calm. “Anyway, are are you thinking of going back to Korea any time soon? There’s probably a bigger market for your type of skill set there. You’re a first-class honours student, after all.”

Baekhyun sighed. “I was, actually. But it’s probably gonna take a while for me to get the funds.”

“You are?” Chanyeol perked up. His voice suddenly jumped up several pitches. “You didn’t tell me a thing. How could you?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell you till it was confirmed. It’s not gonna happen for at least a year or two, anyway.”

“I can hook you up with a place to stay. I’ll help you move in. This is amazing, Baek.”

“Seriously, Chanyeol, anyone would think you didn’t have friends back home.”

“Come on, Baek. You know I like you very much, right?” Chanyeol’s tone was teasing, but he looked as earnest as anyone could be.

Baekhyun let out a half-smile, feeling conflicted. He knew, but for some reason a part of him wasn’t sure. “Of course.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Seoul, South Korea. _2015, December. 23 years._**

“I think we’re late.”

Baekhyun faced the full-length mirror than ran next to the lift doors, quickly checking that the lapels of his tan wool peacoat — the only nice jacket he’d brought over from England a month prior — were still folded right. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol didn’t sound too confident. “Don’t worry, it’s a casual thing. KBC doesn’t do formal sit-down dinners.”

“Cause it’s a modern, creative working environment. I’ll take your word for it.” The lift arrived — finally — and they got in, jamming the “doors closed” button.

“Thanks for agreeing to come as my plus one,” Chanyeol said, his tone light. “After Sehun, that son of a bitch…”

“Don’t thank me. I could use this exposure too.” Baekhyun kept his eyes on the floor number, slowly ticking up to eighty. “It’s me who should be thanking you, for helping with the move.”

Chanyeol grinned. “I did promise.”

The lift slowed to a stop. “We’re here.” Chanyeol grabbed his arm. “Smile.”

The doors opened, and Baekhyun smiled reflexively, Chanyeol’s hand still around his arm. They were greeted by the blinding flash of cameras, and a red carpet that led straight out from the lift to the entrance of the rooftop bar.

Once the press figured out that they weren’t anyone worth photographing, KBC’s official event photographer had them pose for a quick shot on the red carpet and the entire crew swiftly moved on to the next arrivals. At least the guy welcoming the guests outside the bar was friendly. “Park Chanyeol!” He called out, pulling the man into a one-armed hug. “You’re here!”

“Great to see you, MQ. This is my friend Byun Baekhyun. Baek, this is my producer.”

“Great to meet you.” Baekhyun smiled, shaking his hand.

“Chanyeol mentioned you’d be coming. I hope you have a great time tonight.” A flash of a wide smile, a quick pat on the back, and he moved on to the next guest.

Baekhyun had to give it to KBC, they’d gone all out for their New Year’s Eve party. They’d rented the entire rooftop bar of one of Seoul’s best hotels, done up the place in glamorous movie-style decor, strung up lights in small clusters over the pool so a twinkling star-spangled canvas reflected in the water. Servers floated around, bearing trays of tasting hors d’oeuvres from the hotel’s celebrity restaurant. Next to the balcony, a piano quartet played a classical take on swing jazz, while their saxophonist waited at the side, assembling his bass.

As soon as they emerged from the flower bouquet-lined entryway, Chanyeol started with the introductions. “This is my partner anchor, Sooyoung. She’s the brains of the duo, I’m the beauty.” “This is Jonghyun, from music. He’s just released his fifth solo album, have you heard it? It’s awesome.” “This is Kyungho, he acted in the latest drama KBC produced.” They’d spoken to at least five groups of people before they’d taken ten steps.

“How do you know these people,” Baekhyun wondered aloud, after they’d moved on. “You’re not even with that department.”

“Socialising? You ought to get out of your house more.” Chanyeol was easily distracted, constantly shifting his attention from one group of people to the next. “Oh, hi! Baek, this is Yuri.”

“If it isn’t Park Chanyeol.” The girl smiled wryly. “This your new boyfriend?”

Chanyeol didn’t seem to hear the comment — or maybe he just ignored it. “She’s the laziest journalist on the writing team.”

“Wow. Fancy hearing that from the dumbest anchor on the graveyard shift.”

Baekhyun grasped her extended hand. “Byun Baekhyun. Chanyeol’s friend from university.”

“Well Baekhyun, it’s great meeting you.” Yuri smiled, sincerely this time. “Sorry, I’d love to stick around, but the writing team is waiting for their most talented and hardworking member to join them.”

“Get lost.” Chanyeol pushed her in the back, and she stumbled, throwing him an outraged look before continuing on her way. Baekhyun stared after her, feeling slightly out of his depth.

“Are you looking for anyone in particular?” Baekhyun asked. “Like, a group of friends to join?”

“I am, kind of…” Chanyeol didn’t finish his sentence, craning his neck as though searching for something. “Uh, could you get us a table?” Chanyeol asked, pointing towards the area set up with cocktail tables.

Baekhyun complied, heading back towards the tables and watching as Chanyeol disappeared into the crowd. He seemed to be heading for the bar at the opposite end of the deck. Over at the balcony, the saxophonist strapped on his instrument and began to play a song that was slightly familiar. Probably the theme song of one of KBC’s dramas.

“Alright, Baek.” Chanyeol reappeared with two martinis, and handed one to Baekhyun. He glanced around, and seemed to zone in on a target. “I have to go talk to someone. I’ll catch you around?”

Baekhyun nodded. “You’re coming back here, yeah?”

But Chanyeol didn’t seem to be listening. “Go on, charm them.” He grinned, gesturing vaguely at the crowd, and then he was gone, the back of his curly head disappearing into the throng.

Getting ditched at a party where he didn’t know a soul. Typical.

Baekhyun cast his eyes around, checking if there was anyone recognisable in the vicinity. A girl was standing alone at the table next to his, scanning through some sort of document. She went around the side of the makeshift stage and pulled out several barrier posts, trying to arrange them to extend across the front.

Baekhyun set down his drink and approached her with an open, friendly smile. “Hey, do you need help with that?”

“Oh yeah, thank you!” the girl said. Baekhyun held the post steady while she pulled it across to the opposite side. “The CEO is just coming round, but I’ve no idea where the ops people are. Seriously. They just disappeared after the red carpet. So I’m left juggling everything here.”

She looked familiar. “Weren’t you interviewing the celebrity guests just now?”

“Yeah. This year there’s some actor from China. Famous guy. Most of the camera crew seems to be off tailing him somewhere.”

Baekhyun looked around. There wasn’t a camera in sight. “The photographers can’t ditch you, who’s going to cover his entrance?”

“It’s alright, the broadcasting crew is still outside. They’ll cover it.” She set down the last post, and walked back to her table to pick up the papers — her scripts, presumably. “I’m Sunyoung, by the way. I’m an emcee under the entertainment agency.”

“I’m Baekhyun. I don’t work for KBC, but I came with Park Chanyeol. He’s a newscaster here.”

“Oh, yeah, I know him. He’s quite a character.”

“Is he?” Baekhyun laughed, in spite of himself. “Sorry, it’s just… I’ve known him since we were in high school.”

She grinned. “In the UK?”

“Yep. I’d tell you all about it, but I don’t want to ruin his rep completely,” Baekhyun joked.

“Did you go to university there too, then?”

Baekhyun nodded. “I was born there actually. In London. I only moved to Seoul a few weeks ago.”

“Wow. Alone, or…?”

“Yeah, alone.”

“Must be tough.” She sounded sympathising. “Did you move here for a job?”

“I’m still looking for work. Well I do have some singing jobs right now, but the dream is to be a vocal trainer.”

“I see.” Somebody tapped Sunyoung on the shoulder, beckoning for her to follow, and she looked up anxiously. “Sorry, Baekhyun, I have to welcome the CEO now. Maybe we could have a couple drinks after? See you around here?”

“Sure,” Baekhyun agreed, and Sunyoung hurried off towards the door to welcome the guest of honour.

The CEO’s speech was short and concise, welcoming all his guests and thanking the employees for another year of hard work, expressing his hope for another year of continued success. As he came down from the stage, the crowd around the platform dispersed, and Sunyoung sought out Baekhyun to have a few drinks with some of her friends from the entertainment division — Yoona, Seulgi, Heechul.

 

 

It was close to midnight when Baekhyun was reminded that he’d come to the party with Park Chanyeol.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re shouting at?” Someone yelled, loud enough to have half the attendees turning around to stare at him. Over at the bar, a large, buff guy was aggressively staring down a tall guy in a blue suit. Chanyeol, Baekhyun realised, seeing curly brown hair peeking above the crowd. Shit. Baekhyun turned away from his circle and pushed his way across the room as quickly as he could, trying to reach him.

Chanyeol was standing next to the bar, glaring down at a blonde guy in a leather jacket who was seated at the counter. The guy who’d shouted was standing next to the blonde guy, his stance protective.

“This fucker asked for it.” Chanyeol was breathing heavily.

Apparently sensing that an audience had gathered, the blonde guy turned around and pulled off his sunglasses. Baekhyun heard a few people in the crowd mutter to each other, _that’s Lu Han_. Baekhyun hadn’t heard of him, but assumed he was the Chinese celebrity Sunyoung had mentioned earlier.

“All I did,” Lu Han began, looking at a fourth guy who was cowering behind Chanyeol. “Was invite this guy to ride with me, when _this_ lunatic started showing attitude.”

“You groped his ass.”

The guy looked on helplessly, gripping Chanyeol’s arm. “It wasn’t that bad, Chanyeol, just let it go—”

“ _Shut the fuck up_ , Sehun,” Chanyeol spat through gritted teeth.

Lu Han looked unperturbed. “Just tryna get the loot. What’s it to you? He seemed to like it.”

Chanyeol lunged at him, winding up for a punch. The next second, Lu Han’s bodyguard or whatever-the-guy-was slammed Chanyeol to the floor in a single move, landing a blow to his abdomen so hard its thud echoed in the open space.

Baekhyun couldn’t stop himself. He was on the guy in a second, grabbing hold of his arms and forcing them above his shoulders. The guy was much stronger than he was, but a few other people quickly stepped forward to help restrain him, and he couldn’t move. Baekhyun was itching to throw hands hapkido-style, but held back with difficulty. “Lay the fuck off him. Do you want me to call security?”

The guy was panting, eyes still alight with anger. “Just get your friend under control.”

“I can’t believe these people.” Lu Han rolled his eyes and stood up from his seat. “Move the fuck out of the way. I’m swerving.”

The crowd parted like the red sea, and Lu Han walked straight out of the bar, quickly followed by a horde of cameramen. His bodyguard struggled to get up and follow, but there were at least four people holding him fast.

Baekhyun turned to check on Chanyeol. He was still on the floor, but sitting up, and Sehun was crouching next to him.

“I’m alright, Sehun, really. I just hope _you’re_ alright, after that asshole—”

“Baekhyun, what happened?” Yoona came running up to him, her voice worried, closely followed by Heechul and the rest. “What did that guy do to you?”

“Nothing, he went for my friend,” Baekhyun tried to explain, but he was interrupted by Sunyoung’s voice, being broadcasted from the makeshift stage at the other end of the deck.

“ _Aaand_ we’re starting the countdown to midnight!” Orchestral fanfares played in the background. “Ten!”

“Nine!” Baekhyun was shoved from all directions as people scrambled over each other to get the best view of the city from the balcony. “Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three!” He struggled to keep himself standing, tiptoeing for a better view. “Two! One! _HAPPY NEW YEAR_!”

Fireworks exploded across the city in a brilliant supernova of colour. Confetti fell from the sky. K-Pop erupted from the speakers.

All around him, people were screaming, hugging each other, singing along in loud, off-pitch voices. Baekhyun’s new friends grabbed his wrists and waved his arms up and down, trying to get him to join in the dancing — which he did. He sang till his voice was hoarse, danced till he’d amassed a mini crew of hypemen. At some point, Baekhyun caught a glimpse of Chanyeol through the crowd. He was still standing at the bar counter, having an intense conversation with Sehun. They seemed utterly oblivious to the chaos unfolding around them.

After that, Baekhyun completely lost sight of him. Some hours later, when he’d lost count of the drinks he’d downed and was one of the last stragglers leaving the venue, he asked around for Chanyeol, only to be told that he’d left with Oh Sehun. Baekhyun would’ve drunkenly cussed out the idiot for ditching him and then slept on the floor right there, but fortunately Sunyoung had a room in the hotel, and she ended up having to take Baekhyun back with her. He collapsed on the bed and passed out in seconds.

Later that night, when he woke up, his head still pounding, Sunyoung was sleeping soundly next to him. He sat up in bed and watched her sleeping face, feeling a strange combination of guilt and intense discomfort. Nothing had happened, he reminded himself. He’d been too drunk for anything to happen. Still, he decided then that going home with random people really wasn’t for him.

He spent the rest of the night propped up on pillows, squinting at his phone screen as he scrolled aimlessly through social media looking for something to distract himself with.

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Tokyo, Japan. 2017, _September. 25 years._**

“That’s the fifth identical sweatshirt you’ve bought today,” Baekhyun muttered in Korean.

Chanyeol handed his card to the salesgirl with a smile and an enthusiastic “arigatou!”.

“It should be illegal, to throw away money like this.”

Chanyeol signed for the purchase. “This coming from you.” He glanced meaningfully at the Supreme shopping bags crowding the other boy’s feet.

Baekhyun’s straight face wavered. “So maybe I went a little overboard. But at least I’m not paying an arm and a leg for every sweater. Have some self-control, please?”

“I like nice things.” Chanyeol took his shopping bag from the salesgirl and led the way out of the store. “And I have an income. Why shouldn’t I have them?” Chanyeol knew he came from a decently well-off family. He knew he was doing well at work. There simply wasn’t a good reason to scrimp.

Outside, the tree-lined boulevard of Omotesando was stunning in its autumnal glory. The pavement was splashed with the fiery colours of fallen leaves, floating gracefully down from their branches whenever a light breeze rustled by. It was a Saturday, and the street was crowded with people — people shopping in the designer boutiques, people dressed in the fashions of a hundred subcultures crossing over from Harajuku to Shibuya, people holding steaming coffee cups, swathed in colourful wool scarves to keep the cold at bay.

Chanyeol loved Tokyo — it was probably his favourite city. He’d first visited as a teenager on a family holiday, and found himself returning year after year.

“We gotta get out of here, or we’ll be broke in no time.”

“Where to?” Baekhyun swiped across his phone screen, studying the map he’d downloaded. It was his first trip to Japan, and from his practical all-occasion windbreaker to his bulky film camera, he had _tourist_ written all over him.

“Ready for some coffee?”

“I don’t mind.”

“We have to go to the Rilakkuma café, then.”

“Sure,” Baekhyun said, a little amusedly. “Where is it?”

The Rilakkuma cafe was in Akihabara, much to Chanyeol’s glee. He had a blast Snapchatting every last character-stamped detail of their tea and cakes, then headed straight for his favourite figurine shop, ignoring Baekhyun’s incessant nagging about budgets. As they emerged from the store, though, Baekhyun promptly fell off his own train when he caught sight of the entrance to an arcade, enticing with flashing neon lights and trippy game music. He made straight for the consoles while Chanyeol robbed the claw machines, and by the time they exited, they were fully loaded up with soft toys and prizes.

“Check us out, we could probably bankrupt the arcade if we carried on.” Baekhyun couldn’t even lift his arms up, as overloaded as they were with bags of shopping and prizes. “We can’t take everything to dinner, let’s drop this off and eat near the hotel.”

Chanyeol nodded in agreement. “We can just hang around Shinjuku tonight. And we should really go to—”

“A pub?”

“Exactly.” Chanyeol grinned. “How in sync are we? For once.”

“I’m up for that.” Baekhyun tried to give him an awkward side-fist-bump, but the momentum of the shopping bags sent his fist barrelling in the wrong direction. “I could use some stress relief, god knows it’s been long overdue.”

 

 

They picked a large pub on a prominent corner near Shinjuku station, located right in the centre of the vibrant F&B district. The host seated them at the bar, and they ordered some snacks to start.

“And um…” Chanyeol pored over the menu, looking for something suited to his tolerance. “I’ll have a strawberry lemonade vodka. You? How ‘bout a margarita?” He turned to Baekhyun.

Baekhyun scrunched up his nose, a gesture Chanyeol had always found oddly cute. “I was hoping for something stronger.”

“We’re sharing a room tonight.” Chanyeol snapped the menu shut. “I doubt you want a repeat of your parents’ house.”

It seemed the bar they’d picked was popular with tourists. It filled up quickly and the noise level crept up, tables and tables of people all chatting to each other in a dozen different tongues. A live band came in to play, and Chanyeol was thrilled that their set included some Japanese rock tunes he knew and loved. The centre of the pub turned into a disco, and as the atmosphere heated up, Chanyeol and Baekhyun linked their hands and joined in. This is fun, Chanyeol thought, as they danced terribly together, the music loud and power vocals electrifying, heads overloaded with dopamine and tipsy from the one drink they’d both had.

When they returned to their seats, some of the other people at the counter started talking to them, mainly fellow tourists. One guy — probably Chinese, from the looks of it — struck up a conversation with Chanyeol in heavily accented English, and invited him to join his friends on the dance floor.

Chanyeol looked to Baekhyun. “I’m gonna dance with them, yeah?”

“No need to ask permission, Chanyeol. Go ahead.”

Chanyeol couldn’t deny that the group was fun to hang out with. They grabbed hold of everyone and anyone, dragging them into the circle, and at one point staged the fiercest impromptu dance battle Chanyeol had ever seen. From time to time, he looked back to the bar to check on Baekhyun. Baekhyun talked to several groups of people, making them smile and laugh in his easy way, but he didn’t stand up to dance with anyone. All evening, Baekhyun just sat on the stools, staring at his empty glass, looking like he was going through a life crisis.

When the next set of songs ended, Chanyeol returned to their seats, concerned. “You don’t look so well, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great. It’s just the flush.” Baekhyun’s smile was as fake as Chanyeol had ever seen it, but he didn’t elaborate, and Chanyeol didn’t want to pry. But for the rest of the night, he sat down at the counter next to Baekhyun and kept him company.

 

 

Baekhyun had wanted to visit the hot springs in Japan, so Chanyeol looked up some reviews and booked them into an onsen just north of Tokyo. The next evening, they took a train to the outskirts and caught a shuttle bus from the station that brought them directly to the hotel’s entrance.

The lobby was modest and unassuming, a small reception area with some guidebooks on the area and leaflets instructing them on proper use of the hot springs. They checked in and headed for their room, the corridors winding through a series of immaculately-maintained zen gardens and sculpture gardens. The hallways were quiet except for the clear, meditative sound of running water, and as he walked, Chanyeol felt like he was slowly lifting off the ground, floating in a bubble of serenity. He helped Baekhyun with his extra bags as they entered their room — a standard, decently-sized space with twin beds and furniture done up with bamboo accents.

Chanyeol was eager to get out and explore the village, but Baekhyun admitted he just wanted to relax in the hotel. Chanyeol headed out on his own, grabbing dinner at a local restaurant on his way. When he got back, the room was empty. Baekhyun had left a note on the desk: _Gone down to the outdoor baths._

Chanyeol showered, wrapped up in towels and went downstairs.

The outdoor pool was blissfully devoid of rowdy tourist groups, its sole occupants a couple of guys lounging in the corners. Chanyeol found Baekhyun pretty easily — he was reclining at a side of the pool, laying his head on a towel he’d placed next to the water’s edge.

His eyes were shut, but he spoke as Chanyeol approached. “How was dinner?”

“Great. You should’ve come.” Chanyeol gingerly peeled off his towels and climbed into the pool. Steam rose steadily from the hot water, forming a thick layer of mist that hung heavily in the air. Just outside the pool, a fire was slowly burning, filling the room with the warm scent of sandalwood.

Baekhyun was silent, deep in thought or maybe sleeping. It was jarring, seeing him in this light, without all of the lively energy that drew people to him and defined his person. Chanyeol watched him for a while, wondering what thoughts or dreams were lying behind the peaceful exterior.

As he luxuriated in the water, Chanyeol thought back to a year ago, when he’d brought Sehun on a trip to an onsen in Kyoto. That trip had been fun, too, though now just the thought of Sehun made him feel slightly turned off. Sehun had been a decent companion while it lasted, but Chanyeol was glad it was over.

His train of thought strayed to another person — Bae Joohyun, the KBC chairman’s daughter. Chanyeol had met her at a gala dinner, just a few weeks ago, and was struck by her beauty. He hadn’t been the only one either, Chanyeol recalled, remembering the way some of his friends had stared in slack-jawed amazement. Chanyeol had approached her first, slightly intimidated, but she’d seemed to take an immediate interest in him. He smiled to himself, recalling the way her eyes sparkled playfully in response to his compliments, and the way she’d blatantly hit on him, bold and brazen, completely unlike what he’d been expecting.

When Chanyeol returned from his daydream, he realised that Baekhyun was watching him. “What on earth are you so happy about?”

Chanyeol looked down, trying to hide a smirk. “I think the boss’s daughter is into me.”

“Really.” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, and Chanyeol shrugged in response. “More game than I thought.” As usual, Chanyeol couldn’t tell if he was being mocked.

“I’ve always had game,” he protested.

Baekhyun just laughed in response. “So, is she pretty? What’s she like?”

“Of course she is. But she’s also… she’s really something. I think we have so much in common,” Chanyeol heard himself say, and immediately flushed in embarrassment.

Baekhyun was studying him closely now. “Wow. You really like her.”

“I’ve only met her once,” Chanyeol admitted, sitting up straighter. “But I’m getting good signals. I’m gonna ask her out when we get back.”

“Well, I wish you luck,” Baekhyun said, still sounding amused.

“What about you, huh?” Chanyeol asked hurriedly, wanting to change the subject. “Have your eye on anyone?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I’m not looking. Not like I’m gonna have time for a relationship anytime soon.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Baek.” Chanyeol hated the way Baekhyun was so unnecessarily hard on himself. He knew his friend was talented, and passionate, surely it was only matter of time before he’d get his break.

“I have to though, I think I’m finally starting to gain some traction. I plan to start performing at more festivals, maybe try doing some songwriting.”

Chanyeol understood that Baekhyun had to challenge himself and work hard to keep up his progress, but he still hated the thought of Baekhyun tiring himself out. “I’ll help you,” Chanyeol decided abruptly. “I promise. It might take a while, but I’ll push for our network to give you an OST, or something.” He wondered if he was too rash to make such a promise, but he was determined. He’d set his mind to it. Nothing was impossible if he committed himself to it.

“Could you really?” Baekhyun asked, hesitant but hopeful. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Of course.” _Of course, you’re my best friend_ , he finished the sentence in his head, but didn’t say it aloud. “Wait and see, Baek, I’ll make it happen.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Seoul, South Korea. _2019, March. 27 years._**

For a twenty-seven year old, Baekhyun considered himself pretty fortunate. He’d been working as a vocal trainer for a year, and was starting to consider pursuing performance singing. Several months ago, he’d gotten an offer from KBC to collaborate with a well-known female singer for a TV drama soundtrack. The drama had taken off both locally and internationally, and two months ago, he’d gotten signed to a record label.

He had a date that night — with Kim Minseok, a director at his new label, whom he’d met at the previous month’s social. Minseok was a straight-laced sort of guy, with a solid presence and taciturn demeanour that hid a soft, forgiving heart. He was attractive, kept fit, and Baekhyun had been over to his place enough to know he kept his house impeccable too. He was, by all accounts, Baekhyun’s ideal man.

Minseok had suggested the place for their date: an upscale French restaurant, with a Michelin-starred chef. So far, it was going well. The food was amazing, the ambience amazing, and the company was as enjoyable as any. Minseok’s “jokes”, while not funny, were oddly endearing, and they had so many common ideals — it was always easy to talk to him.

They were halfway into dessert when Baekhyun’s phone vibrated, and he glanced down at the screen.

_Park Chanyeol is calling_

Baekhyun hesitated, then rejected the call and turned back to Minseok.

Five seconds later, the phone started vibrating again. Baekhyun ignored it this time, letting the call ring through to voicemail. Then a text came in.

_Can you come over? Please_

Baekhyun felt his brows knotting together. Muttering a quick apology to Minseok, he turned to a side and texted back.

_What is it?_

Since their trip to Japan, almost two years ago, Baekhyun had been aware that his feelings for his friend were getting thrown slightly out of whack. But they’d kept meeting up regularly, sometimes accompanied by Joohyun, whom Chanyeol was now dating. They’d even become something of a support system for each other, in the competitive industries both aspired to succeed in.

Chanyeol had gone out of his way to help him in many ways. Baekhyun knew that he owed much of his recent success to Chanyeol, but it didn’t make meeting up with him — with or without Joohyun — any less painful. They had a lot in common, Chanyeol and Joohyun. The same air of entitlement, the confidence that they could have whatever they want and that they deserved it. For their good looks, for their privilege, for their smiles that promised charmed secrets and charmed lives.

But then he’d met Minseok. Baekhyun was just starting to feel a little better about his relationship with his friend, and he really didn’t want to throw away the progress he’d made. Cutting short his date to go racing to Chanyeol’s aid would feel too much like losing.

The phone weighed heavily in his pocket, but no answering text came.

Baekhyun bit his lip, thinking hard, then he looked up at Minseok, who was finishing up the last of his creme brulee.

 

 

Baekhyun drove to Chanyeol’s flat as fast as he could, parking next to the road and racing up the stairs to the sixth floor.

The door was unlocked and unlatched. Baekhyun found Chanyeol lying on the floor in the living room, still dressed in his work shirt and slacks, his hair matted and face streaked with tears. His eyes were open, but glassy, and they stared emptily at the ceiling.

“Oh, Chanyeol,” he sighed, crossing the room and propping the man up on his lap with difficulty. Chanyeol seemed to come back into focus when he heard his name, jolting slightly and face crumpling again. He was a mess. “Why didn’t you call Joohyun?”

Chanyeol was crying again, and Baekhyun waited till his gasps faded back into sharp, irregular intakes of breath. “I–I fucked up, Baek,” His voice cracked, and more tears spilled from his eyes, droplets catching between long lashes. “My. Mum. Is _dying_ , Baek.”

Fuck. Gently, Baekhyun stroked Chanyeol’s hair, trying to control the ache spreading across his own chest, to suppress the tears that threatened to rise to the back of his eyes. “When did you find out, Chanyeol-ah?” he asked softly.

“This — this afternoon.” More choked sobs, and a strangled hiccup. Baekhyun rubbed his back soothingly, still cradling his head within his arms. “At the hospital. Lung cancer.”

“I’m so sorry, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun felt at a loss of words.

“Yura was there,” Chanyeol continued, his face contorted in pain. “She — she told me. I should’ve been a better son.”

“Chanyeol. You are the best son anyone could ask for.” Baekhyun meant it. He knew just how close Chanyeol was to his mother. “We all know you are. Yura’s just upset.”

“I should’ve visited more often. I should’ve made her give up smoking.”

“You did what you could.”

“Baekhyun.” Baekhyun looked down at Chanyeol, who swallowed thickly. “Could you… stay with me? Please?” His eyes were so wide, so pleading. Eyes that Baekhyun could never refuse.

He could do it. Just stay with him. Baekhyun nodded, feeling the ache in his chest intensify. “Don’t worry, Chanyeol-ah. I won’t leave you.” He wondered if he was secretly a masochist.

In his arms, Chanyeol shut his eyes. In that moment, it was as though the whole world was just Baekhyun, and Chanyeol’s tired body in his arms, and his sobs that softly faded away. Outside the window, people kept walking, the traffic kept moving, the world kept turning. Baekhyun kept his eyes on the moon hanging full and bright above the skyline, and tried his utmost to hold himself together.

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Jejudo, South Korea. _2022, April. 30 years._**

It was really unlike Jongin and Krystal to choose the most sickeningly magical and romantic venue in the country for their wedding, Chanyeol thought, as he drove towards the manor standing at the end of the road. Joohyun sat in the passenger seat, preoccupied with something on her phone, scarcely paying attention to the breathtaking views they were passing as they drove along the coast. The manor had been built in the last ten years, but the architects had done a pretty good job of making it look like an authentic European-style villa, right down to the hedge labyrinth that spread across a vast front lawn.

Krystal Jung had been a close friend of Chanyeol’s, back in university. Jongin had grown up in the UK, and they’d met there at a joint event for Korean students. Since moving back to Seoul, Chanyeol had continued to meet up with Krystal regularly, but he’d only met Jongin once — way back when they’d first returned. Baekhyun had been at that dinner, Chanyeol recalled, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see a familiar figure standing at the door by Jongin’s side, greeting guests, shaking hands. Soft dark blonde hair, bright crescent-moon eyes, thin, yet pouty lips. Unmistakably Byun Baekhyun, whom he hadn’t seen since his mother passed — all Chanyeol’s fault. He’d flaked on Baekhyun multiple times, failed to return his calls or answer any messages.

He regretted it now, but back then he simply hadn’t possessed the strength to care. Overcome by a sudden wave of guilt and awkwardness, Chanyeol avoided Baekhyun’s gaze as he stepped into the foyer.

The wedding reception took place in the main hall of the manor, a large ballroom-barn hybrid with wooden beams supporting arched ceilings, hung over with fairy lights, and a wooden parquet floor covered in navy and burgundy carpets. The decorators had worked hard on the details — each table was set off with copper cutlery, roses blooming red and white, vanilla-scented candles burning in pewter holders.

Jongin and Krystal entered together, passing under a canopy of glowing lanterns, and ascended the stage to applause. Baekhyun gave a joint best man’s speech with Jongin’s other groomsman, a Lee Taemin. He sounded simultaneously fond and emotional as he spoke about Jongin, regaling the audience with memories from their childhood and cheeky stories about Jongin’s courtship of Krystal. Chanyeol found himself hooked onto every word. Every syllable, every mannerism reminded him just how much he’d missed his best friend.

Baekhyun’s speech ended far too quickly, and Jongin and Krystal gave their own joint address before the dinner reception commenced. Chanyeol hadn’t been expecting to enjoy himself, but the food was excellent, guests were well-behaved, everything so picture perfect that he couldn’t help but relax and soak up the atmosphere. After dinner, the spotlights on the ceiling shifted through a few configurations, and staff came in to shift the tables out of the way, making space for a dance floor. Someone turned up the volume on the music — _Angels_ by Robbie Williams, typical — and Jongin and Krystal began to lead with the first dance.

Everyone watched, enraptured by their perfect display of romance, but Chanyeol noticed Baekhyun standing up and heading towards the back of the hall. “Be right back,” he murmured to Joohyun, who just nodded, her expression indifferent.

Chanyeol hurried out of the back doors and caught up with Baekhyun as he was exiting the foyer. “Byun Baekhyun,” he called out, voice catching on the last syllable.

Baekhyun turned around, and Chanyeol was shocked to see that he was crying. Baekhyun never cried. “Oh, hi, Chanyeol.”

“I — are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun blinked back tears and cleared his throat self-consciously. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. …Jongin and I have been friends a long time.”

He looked so uncharacteristically vulnerable, Chanyeol didn’t know how to react. “Do you wanna take a walk?”

Baekhyun just nodded, and Chanyeol led the way out the arching doors to the manor gardens.

 

 

The gardens were quiet and magical on a spring night, a million flowers in full bloom. Ahead, the entrance to the labyrinth beckoned, luring them into darkness.

“Long day?” Chanyeol asked.

“More like long week. We did greetings yesterday, and the Korean ceremony, and the registration, I was there for all of it. I helped them plan this dinner too. It’s been… pretty intense.”

“Well, you did a great job. It turned out amazing.” He meant it.

They walked, side by side, into the labyrinth.

Around them, the hedges rose dark and towering from every direction, blocking out all noise from the manor. It was dim inside, the route ahead illuminated only by silvery moonlight. The air, green and slightly chilly, seemed to hum with something electric. It was like a scene from a movie, Chanyeol thought, something grandiose and romantic, where fireflies or will o’ the wisps would leap ahead of them on the mossy carpet and point them down a path to destiny. He’d used to think of the world as his own personal film reel, where amazing and wonderful things could happen at any time. It had been a long time since he’d let himself dream like that.

Baekhyun’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. “So, it’s been, what, three years.”

“I’m sorry.” Chanyeol fumbled to explain himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, sorry I was such a shitty friend. I was… shaken up about my mum, for a really long time. I kind of dived into work, to distract myself from everything. And then with Joohyun, I just… couldn’t handle _anything_ in my life right then.”

Baekhyun was quiet for awhile. In the darkness of the maze, stray beams of light moved across his face as he walked, reflecting in the tear tracks still glistening on his cheeks. “It’s okay. I understand.” He took a few deep breaths, calming himself down. “But why haven’t you gotten married yet, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was dissect his relationship. “We aren’t ready yet.”

“If you need anyone to talk to, you know I’m here, right?” Chanyeol turned back to Baekhyun, who was watching him carefully. His eyes looked understanding. Too understanding.

“Yeah.” Chanyeol scrambled to change the subject. “How are things with you and Minseok?”

“We broke up a long time ago.” Chanyeol mentally kicked himself. Minseok hadn’t been at the wedding — he wasn’t thinking straight. “Don’t feel bad about it. It’s long in the past.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“A lot of things have changed since then.”

“Like your hair. You’re a fully-fledged celebrity now.” Chanyeol reached out to ruffle Baekhyun’s hair, which had to have been bleached to oblivion, but was somehow still silky-soft. “How are you doing at the agency, anyway?” Chanyeol knew Baekhyun had several successful new soundtracks under his belt, and had heard through the grapevine that he’d scored a record deal with a major label, but asked anyway.

“Pretty good. I’ve got a new record deal, but I’m still coaching there part-time.” Baekhyun looked up at him. “What about you, still doing good?”

“I was promoted recently. I’m on the prime slot now, and they’ve started getting me to do interviews.”

“That’s great. I’m happy to hear it.”

“You’re the first person who hasn’t made jokes about gold-digging and nepotism.”

“I was gonna get to that. Nah, Chanyeol, I have faith in your abilities. I’m sure you got there on your own merit — or even if you didn’t, you would've.”

“ _Would’ve_.” Chanyeol laughed. “Nice. I mean thanks.”

“By the way. Any idea where we’re headed for?” Baekhyun turned to survey their surroundings, but there was nothing but the hedge stretching endlessly ahead of them.

“No idea. Let’s just keep going, we’re bound to get out of here somehow.”

“Joohyun will be looking for you.”

“She won’t.” Chanyeol regretted being so honest the moment the words slipped out, but thankfully Baekhyun refrained from commenting.

They kept walking, alternately turning left and right at forks, and finally emerged from the other side of the maze. They arrived in a semicircular clearing, a terrace with a railing that overlooked a wide expanse of golf course. Chanyeol walked up to the railing and leaned over the edge. Below them, the golf course was deserted, illuminated only by a few large floodlights.

The silence was deafening, and something about the wide emptiness of their surroundings felt unbearably oppressive. Chanyeol was seized by a sudden, intense wave of frustration. When had he gotten so neurotic, so highly-strung and easily upset? He missed his old self — his laid-back, confident, always-positive self. But there was no going back.

Baekhyun came up to him from behind, oblivious to the intense battle he was fighting in his head. “We’ve come far, haven’t we? Since that day when that racist RAG president made us pair up for bucketing.”

Chanyeol shook his head, trying to clear out the intrusive thoughts. “That was ten years ago. Insane.”

“It’s fucking sobering.” Baekhyun cleared his throat. “We’re thirty, Chanyeol. We aren’t youngsters anymore. Our friends are _married_.”

“How the hell did it happen.” As abruptly as the frustration had come, Chanyeol felt all the energy drain from his body. He felt defeated.

“I don’t know.” Baekhyun said, honestly. “But… I’m glad, Chanyeol. I’m glad we met up again like this.”

Something about his tone was strange, and it made Chanyeol nervous. “I’m relieved, too,” he said tentatively. “I shouldn’t have isolated my best friend. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I know you went through a hard time, but I wish you’d come to me for help. What are friends for anyway?” Baekhyun snapped, then calmed himself down. “Sorry, I got agitated. Of course I forgive you.”

“Then… can I call you once I get back to Seoul?” Chanyeol wanted so badly to make things better. He’d look Baekhyun up for dinner and drinks, or they could hang out in town, see a movie, take a walk along the Han river. They could confide anything and everything in each other.

Just like old times.

“Sorry, Chanyeol. I’m leaving the country. Next week,” Baekhyun said, and Chanyeol’s heart missed a beat.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to London first. I haven’t visited my parents in a while. Then I’m going straight to Shanghai, and I’m gonna be there for a few years. My new label wants me to promote in the mainland, put down some roots in the local market. I don’t think I’ll be returning to Seoul for at least a year.” Chanyeol stared at Baekhyun, but Baekhyun avoided his eyes. “But when I do come back, I’ll definitely call you. It’s a promise.”

A year. Regret coursed through Chanyeol’s veins, regret for all the time he’d wasted. But outwardly he nodded, and made sure to keep the resignation out of his tone. “That sounds exciting.” _I’ll be okay_ , he told himself. “You’d better make sure to call me when you’re back.” _I haven’t spoken to him in three years. I’ll be fine_.

But he wasn’t sure. Something felt different about Baekhyun, and he didn’t know if the damage was reversible. For the second time in his life, Chanyeol felt himself slipping — and once again, he had no idea what to do.

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Shanghai, China. 2022, October. 30 years.**

Polluted air, thick with smog, hit Chanyeol like a train the instant he stepped off his shuttle bus in the city centre. But it might as well have been a fresh mountain breeze — he felt born anew.

He was in Shanghai visiting Baekhyun, who was still in the process of settling into his new life. In his text messages, Baekhyun had mentioned that his promotions weren’t in full swing just yet, and so he still had a relatively empty schedule. He’d offered to let Chanyeol stay with him in his flat, and had agreed to take him around the city to see the sights.

It was three in the afternoon by the time Chanyeol arrived downtown, where he’d made plans to meet Baekhyun. He checked his phone to re-read Baekhyun’s message, just in case.

_Sorry I can’t meet you at the airport, have plans. I’ll meet you at the stop near my place at 3:15. I live right above it._

With help from the map on his phone, Chanyeol quickly located their meeting spot and took a seat at the bus stop to wait. The stop was next to a fairly major road, and the cars racing by kicked up wind and dust as they roared past. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long — barely a few minutes had passed before he heard a familiar voice calling out his name.

Chanyeol looked up to see Baekhyun speed-walking down the pavement, just ahead of another guy in a suit who was hurrying to catch up. “Chanyeol! Here!” He waved, grinning widely. His hair was tousled from the wind, tie crooked, suit in disarray.

Chanyeol watched, slightly surprised, as Baekhyun came up to him and grabbed him in a quick, tight one-armed hug. “Hey. How was your flight?”

“Not too bad,” Chanyeol managed, looking from Baekhyun to the guy behind him.

Baekhyun looked back, seemingly remembering that he had company, and quickly pulled the guy forwards. “Right, introductions.” He’d switched to English. “Chanyeol, this is Kris, my boyfriend.”

Kris was a tall guy, taller than Chanyeol, with the worst case of resting bitch face Chanyeol had ever seen. “Pleased to finally meet you. Baekhyun’s told me lots about you.” He smiled, then, surprising Chanyeol with how goofy he actually looked.

Chanyeol froze, feeling like he’d just run into a brick wall. In front of him, Kris was standing with his hand still outstretched, smile starting to fade into confusion.

Chanyeol quickly grasped his hand and shook it. “Yeah? He hasn’t mentioned you.” The words slipped out of his mouth of their own accord. He didn’t have to check to know Baekhyun was glaring at him. “Well,” Chanyeol continued. “I hope I didn’t disrupt anything by asking to meet today…?”

Kris’ gaze was more skeptical now, but he cut in. “No, actually I was just sending Baek home. I’m off, have an investor’s meeting to make.”

Baekhyun reached out to give Kris a parting hug. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Bye, babe.” Kris cast one last suspicious glance at Chanyeol, patted Baekhyun on the back, then turned to leave.

 

 

Chanyeol was still shell-shocked as Baekhyun led him into the apartment block.

“Would it really kill you to be nice for once?” Baekhyun started climbing a narrow flight of stairs, reaching out to help Chanyeol with his suitcase. “Sorry, the lift is under maintenance, but I live on the first floor.”

Chanyeol finally found his voice. “What the fuck, Baek.”

“What?” Baekhyun hauled the luggage up the first flight of steps.

“How could you date a guy who could use his chin as a can opener?” Even as the words came out, Chanyeol knew he was being ridiculously petty, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Baekhyun looked back at him incredulously. “Are you being serious?”

“Did you see him smile? I thought his gums were going to burst out of his mouth.”

“Like your eyes don’t do the same thing every time _you_ smile.” Baekhyun unlocked the front door and wheeled the suitcase into his flat. It was a small space with an open-plan kitchen, but clean and comfy-looking, and he’d already laid out the sofa bed with fresh sheets.

Baekhyun headed to a corner of the room, powered up his air purifier and began lighting the scented candles that were lined up on the coffee table. Chanyeol hovered in the doorway, not taking off his shoes. “How long have you been seeing each other, anyway?”

“About two months.”

“Wasn’t that right after you came to Shanghai? You sure move fast.” Chanyeol didn’t know how his own voice was sounding so sarcastic. “I didn’t know pretentious management types were your thing.”

Baekhyun finally looked up at him, his mask of calm dissolved. “For someone who’s come to stay at my place as a guest, you sure are being one rude motherfucker.”

His words hit like slaps back to reality. Chanyeol fell silent, struggling to keep calm. He knew he was supposed to be happy for Baekhyun, but his thoughts were still confused, still stuck in denial. He wouldn’t be able to behave appropriately, not in his current state of mind. “I… I think I’d better get going.”

Baekhyun started. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What, why?”

Chanyeol briefly considered lying, then decided to come clean. To hell with it. “I didn’t come here just to tour the city, Baek, I came to tell you something. Joohyun and I split.”

He was met with a pause. When Baekhyun spoke again, he’d softened his tone. “What happened?”

“Our engagement got called off. Turns out she was cheating on me with an actor dude. For over a year now.” He stopped. The memory still hurt. “Her dad was mad with me, even though she was the one cheating, that’s why I got fired. But I was relieved, because I realised… I didn’t love her.”

At his words, the colour seemed to drain out of Baekhyun’s face. Chanyeol wasn’t sure what it meant, but plowed on. “I just thought, well _realised_ , really, I wanted _you_. And maybe it was dumb of me, but when I thought back on everything, I thought there was a chance you liked me too.”

“What made you think so?” Baekhyun returned aggressively, and Chanyeol blanched. “Okay. I might’ve had some feelings at one point in time. But the way you treated all your other relationships made me realise that you were the _last_ person I wanted to be with. So no, I don’t like you in that way. Not in the least.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did, Chanyeol. For fuck’s sake, grow up and admit it. You never treated any of your relationships, if we can even call them that — hookups, seriously. Except for, well, Joohyun, and look how that turned out. Even as a friend, you never treated me seriously. You were never responsible. You think you can just show up after three years and ask me to go out with you? _I am not a backup plan_ , Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol was at a loss for words. He could almost physically feel his heart, already in pieces, shatter into shards.

Baekhyun bit his lip. “Shit. I’m sorry, Chanyeol. That was unfair, I didn’t mean it. You’re a great friend, you’ve always supported me. It’s just… you aren’t what I’m looking for in a partner.”

There was something horribly final about the way he said it. Chanyeol took a few deep breaths, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “Well it doesn’t matter how I supported you now, does it.” He was surprised by how calm he sounded. “You’re right. I did mess around. But I put that in the past, I thought things could change. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship like this —”

“You don’t have to—”

“But it doesn’t seem like there’s anything I can do about it now,” Chanyeol continued, cutting him off. “I didn’t consider things from your angle. I guess I already ruined it, years ago.”

He walked over to the sofa bed and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. Baekhyun just watched him, unspeaking, his features still twisted in hurt and cold anger.

Chanyeol looked away. He couldn’t focus with Baekhyun looking at him like that, but he had to say everything that was on his mind. “One last thing. I’ve never thought of you as a “backup plan”. I know I took a long time to get over my issues. I wanted to start a new life, but I was so unhappy. Then I met you again, and it was like the floodgates opened. You made me feel like my old, happier self, made me hopeful, but it was still just beyond reach, and you were so distant. Both of us had changed too much. It frustrated me. I thought about it long and hard, and the only conclusion I could come up with was that I need you. I want you. And I’d hoped you could save me.”

“I’m really sorry for everything I made you go through, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol meant it, as sincere as could be. “Just… have a nice life.”

Then he walked away from Baekhyun’s flat, footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway, his heart still breaking in his chest.

 

 

Baekhyun watched Chanyeol walk out of his life, and had half a mind to call after him, but stopped himself in time. His own harsh words still seemed to echo through the empty apartment.

_So no, I don’t like you in that way. Not in the least._

Something a little like regret stirred in his gut. Sure, Chanyeol had been an idiot at times. The absolute worst. But he had always, _always_ meant well. And Baekhyun himself hadn’t been a perfect friend, either. It was hardly Chanyeol’s fault that Baekhyun had fallen for him first. Neither was it Chanyeol’s fault that his mother had died, and he’d chosen his own way of coping with it. Baekhyun had been unfair. His anger wouldn’t have made sense to anyone except himself.

He stood next to the sofa bed, frozen in place, for another few minutes, then let out a long breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. He took off running — down the narrow flight of stairs, out of the apartment block, onto the pavement. Chanyeol wasn’t anywhere on the street.

Panic seized hold of Baekhyun’s chest. Heart racing furiously, he sprinted in the direction of the train station, turned two corners, and finally there he was — almost at the end of the road. “Park Chanyeol!” Baekhyun yelled as loud as he could, all his urgency and relief and exasperation slipping through his voice.

Fifty metres away, Chanyeol stopped short and slowly turned around. Baekhyun slowed to a jog as he shook hair out of his eyes, closing the distance between them until he was close enough to see the confusion in Chanyeol’s face, the redness in his eyes.

Chanyeol stood there in his oversized travelling clothes (it looked like one of the hoodies he’d bought in Tokyo), a hand tightly grasping the handle of his luggage, and waited for Baekhyun to speak. The street was crowded, vehicles speeding down the road, pedestrians passing them by on both sides, but in that moment they all seemed to disappear from view.

Something about Chanyeol had always been so infuriatingly out of reach. But now he was within grasp, right in front of Baekhyun, just waiting for him to stretch out a hand.

Baekhyun drew in a deep breath. “God. Okay. I — I’ll go out with you.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened slightly, but he made no other sign that he’d heard. Baekhyun stared at him, waiting for realisation to settle in. “Did you hear me?”

“You said you didn’t like me.” Chanyeol’s voice shook slightly, and his eyes were wet. Baekhyun was overcome with the simultaneous urge to grab Chanyeol and throttle him back to his senses, and then to kill himself for hurting Chanyeol with all his unnecessary bitterness.

He did neither. “I lied,” he said shortly. “I do like you. Too much for my own good.”

It was a few seconds before Chanyeol spoke again. “But — Kris.”

“Fuck Kris.” Baekhyun reached out and put his hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders, gripping them tightly as though trying to make sure he wouldn’t run off. He looked straight into his eyes. “But — I swear to god, you’d better not fuck up this time. We’re way too old to keep playing around like college students.”

“I won’t.” His lashes were so long, his doe eyes were shiny with tears, and there were fine lines where there used to be smooth skin. Baekhyun thought he was the most handsome he’d ever been. “Baek… I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Baekhyun just shook his head, letting a small sigh escape through upturned lips. “You’re an asshole, Chanyeol. I thought I’d finally gotten rid of you.”

The hint of a playful smile crept up onto his lips, and just like that, the Chanyeol from ten years ago was back. Baekhyun loved him so much.

“I don’t think you can.”

**//END**

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based on “One Day” by David Nicholls.


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